Any Other Way
by GalleyTrot
Summary: no major changes/tweaked for better reading - Was it superficial? Well, it was consensual, at least. Kyle felt no real desire for Stan... But would Cartman ever actually believe him? Kyric two-shot, sexual content, PWP Smut; READ WARNING.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note**: PLEASE review after reading! I beg you, because your thoughts and reactions—both positive and negative—are very important to me.

I wasn't sure what categories to put this under, so hurt/comfort sounded best for the literal, physical senses of the words.

This is only my second finished written work ever, and the first I've ever posted to public eye. Undoubtedly my favorite work, ever. Well, this first chapter is, anyway.

It was originally meant to be a one-shot, but I wrote up a second half centered more on Stan, which I'd deliberated on and decided to post after all, after re-writing the ending several times.

**Setting (kind of)**: The boys are 16 years old for this, and in 11th grade. It takes place one and a half months after my other two-shot fan fiction I've posted, titled "For the Benefit".

**Warnings**: Cartman x Kyle, Male x Male intercourse, consensual sexual abuse, mild choking, very strong language, blood fetish, flogging, slight bondage, S&M, and slight Nazi themes/racism.

If any of these offend you, then begone. You don't want to be here. If the Jewish slurs offend you, then what the fuck are you doing in South Park fan fiction?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own South Park in any way shape or form. Colorado owns the geographical location; Trey Parker and Matt Stone own the show, and all the characters in it.

* * *

"Eric... Seriously, it was nothing, okay?"

"It sure as hell didn't look like nothing, you little fucking Jew... How the hell do I know you aren't getting him to pound that sweet ass of yours behind my back? I see the way you watch him..." Cartman growled with hate.

"Eric... Eric, please, Stan's my best friend—"

"Yes, your best friend. All the more reason to lure him to your bed, hm?" he sneered, disgusted.

"Cartman. Look. Stan isn't fucking me. I don't want him to fuck me. He wouldn't know... how to please me. Not the way that you do," Kyle lowered his pleading voice. He wanted to look away, but Eric had him pinned up against the hallway's wall and was looming dangerously close; there was nowhere else for him to look.

"Then stop giving him that damn look. Even if you aren't thinking it, your eyes plead for his touch. I know that look; I see it every time you beg me to stop teasing and just fuck you, already..." Eric's breath rushed over Kyle's ear, making him shiver in response. "Well, I'm just gonna have to keep fucking you until you want only me."

"What are you talking about? God damn it, listen to me!"

"I'm afraid you're coming to my house again tonight, Kyle. Go on. Go get your stuff." Cartman dragged a fingertip along the edge of Kyle's cheek.

As if on cue, the bell signaling the end of the school day rang, and Kyle squeezed his way out from under the much bigger body to head for his locker. He could feel the hard stare following him as he went, never once looking away, even as the halls filled up with other dismissed locker-bound high-schoolers. He gave a sigh and pulled his bright green trapper hat tighter around his head, as if it would protect him at all. Once again, he would have to appease Cartman's possessive, jealous nature...

In the month and a half that he had been with Cartman, it was always superficial. Kyle knew it was. Sure, the sex was great... It was rough, thorough and very satisfying; he had no complaints there. But it was still superficial; nothing more than the pleasures of the flesh. And the whole affair would just as soon end, once Cartman got bored of the thrill. Kyle couldn't help but wonder: What then? What if, when he was no longer wanted, he still wanted more? That was exactly why his gaze and his thoughts often wandered to Stan, lately... though he'd never admit that to Eric, lest he anger him into rash action.

But would Stan ever be able to offer anything to Kyle? Getting Wendy out of the picture would be no problem; their relationship was totally unstable. But there were other issues, too: Would Stan actually sleep with a guy? Let alone, his very best friend? And would Stan be able to handle Kyle rough, the way he'd become so used to being handled? No, Stan was far too sentimental for such things... There was no way.

So, just who would Kyle turn to?

***

The walk back home was an awkward one. Cartman made it a point to walk no more than half a foot's distance from Kyle, snarling possessively any time Kenny or Stan turned or looked his way. The other two couldn't figure out just what was up Cartman's ass, and the annoyance displayed on Kyle's face didn't offer up any hints or details.

"Dude, what the hell, Kyle? Did you lose a bet we don't know about?" Stan asked, fed up with the mixed-emotive atmosphere that hung over the group. "You two have been acting strange for, like, a month now..."

"No... There was no bet, Stan," Kyle admitted tiredly.

"Then what the hell? Seriously, Kyle, it's like you're never around anymore, you're always off with Cartman for some reason. You sure he didn't trick you into being his slave or something?"

"Nah, Stan. He didn't trick me into anything."

"'Ey! I'm right here!" Cartman grumbled. They were talking as if he wasn't even around.

"Well something's going on, Kyle. Don't think I haven't noticed the bruises, either." Kyle paled a little in the cold winter wind. He thought he'd hidden those up quite nicely...

"W-when did you see those..?"

"I do watch your games, you know. Jerseys hide very little."

"Oh... Yeah, there's, uh... someone on the team who's been getting rough lately," he lied, looking away. Cartman huffed.

"What? Why haven't you told your coach!? You should get the bastard pulled from the team!"

"Well... he's one of our best, so..."

"Kyle, you ARE the best. Get rid of him."

"It's not that easy, Stan," Kyle snapped. "Look. It's fine. Just bruises. He'd never really hurt me, so he's not a threat. I need him around, for as long as I can have him..." his voice faded, and he reprimanded himself for saying too much. He could see Eric's expression falter through the corner of his eye.

"Okay. Whatever, dude. But that doesn't answer why you've been with Cartman so much lately. You can't stand that fucker!"

"I'm seriously, Stan! I'm standing right here!" Cartman barked a reminder.

"We've, uh... gotten over some differences. I mean, come on, we've only got, what... two years left before we all go our separate ways to college? Why end our entire childhood on a bad note?"

"Kyle... you are so full of bull shit." Cartman huffed in annoyance.

"Eric!!" Kyle exclaimed.

"Eric?" Kenny and Stan noticed together.

"Oh my god..." Kenny started, his quiet conclusion being brought to light. "You two really HAVE been fucking!"

"WHAT!?" Kyle and Stan yelled in unison. Kyle was red. Beet red. He'd frozen mid-walk, and everyone else turned to look at him; Kenny and Stan expectantly, Eric with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Kyle... what the fuck, is that true?" Stan pressed. But Kyle was frozen, eyes darting from face to face while he attempted to cultivate an answer.

"Oh my god... YOU'RE the one beating and bruising Kyle!" Stan realized, and then turned on Cartman, incredulous. He scowled at the larger boy, who smirked back, confirming the accusation. Stan wheeled on Cartman in anger, swinging his fists for the brunet's face. But Cartman was expecting his anger and managed to catch Stan's fists cooly, twisting them away with a strength that only Kyle knew he possessed. Kyle gave a yelp and started pulling Stan back, while Kenny grabbed at Eric and held him away. Kyle hugged Stan tight in his arms.

"Listen, Stan... It's fine. It's consensual... Don't hurt him..." he pleaded.

"Consensual!? He's hurting you, Kyle! Like hell that's consensual!" He struggled to get free.

"No! No, really, it is..." Kyle's grip relented, and he turned Stan around. "Look at me, Stan. It's true. I let him hurt me... because it feels good. For both of us." Stan's expression was one of heated amazement, but after a while, it slowly faded into disgust.

"Honestly, Kyle... I don't give a fuck that you're gay; you're still Kyle to me... But I won't believe for one fucking minute that you're spreading your legs for this asshole and letting him abuse you... OR that you like it. Damn it, Kyle..." He wrenched himself free from his best friend's grasp, then turned to walk off, homeward-bound, furious, and alone. Kyle's skin became even paler as he pathetically watched Stan's retreating form, at a total loss over what to do.

"Kyle. Let's go," Eric's voice demanded softly, and he was led into walking again with Eric and Kenny to either side, guiding him on in silence.

***

After reaching Eric's place, Kenny continued on for his own home without question, while Kyle and Eric stepped into the house. It was probably for the best that Kenny revealed his hunch... right? Secrets are generally more dangerous than the truth, anyway... But oh, would he be in trouble if it turned out the other way around, he told himself. Then he head for home.

Once inside, both of the boys were greeted by Leanne, and Cartman gave his poor mother his usual attitude. This time, however, he passed up her offer for junk food, ignored her surprise, told her not to bother him, then dragged Kyle by the arm right up into his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He practically threw Kyle down onto his bed.

"Strip," he demanded. It was a single, undisputable word.

"Eric, please, just give me a second..." Kyle pleaded, but he found his hands working to remove his shirt, anyway.

"The fuck you need a second for?" Eric barked. "If you aren't naked in 5 more, I'm going to fucking drown you in a pool of your own blood! Four. Three. Two." Hat flung to the floor, Kyle was frantically undoing his pants as fast as he could, but only got them down to his knees when Cartman declared "Time's up", and he was on him in an instant. He grabbed a hold of Kyle's throat and squeezed the air passage shut, making the boy claw frantically at his arms. But Eric did not let go until he managed to tear Kyle's pants and briefs from his ankles one-handed. Released, Kyle gasped for his precious air while he still could, lest Cartman make another grab for his neck. But he didn't.

Instead, Cartman took several steps back and turned to take care of his own clothes. He faced away from Kyle while he stripped, and commanded him to close his eyes. As soon as Kyle complied, he was instantly blindfolded, and he felt Cartman's hand on his chest pressing him flat onto the bed. His wrists were then taken, elevated and tied to separate bed posts. So now, Kyle was bound with no hints of freedom. But lately, freedom wasn't the first thing on his mind when he got tied... Instead, he tended to struggle just to anger his lover into a darker, more forceful mood.

And so, Kyle struggled. But no retribution was made. Falling silent, he listened for Cartman's proximity, hearing only a rustling on the far side of the room. He strained to hear what he thought was a small clinking of metal, but he couldn't be sure. Then he was aware of a heavy, clunking footstep crossing the room in his direction. It stalked ever closer, until it stopped just short of the bed side.

"Eric..?" Kyle tested softly. After a long moment of silence, he went to try again, but his voice was silenced by a pair of lips covering his own. He voiced his surprise in an inquisitive mumble, but Eric revealed no explanation. This was different; unexpected. None of the force Kyle had come to expect was present in that kiss.

"Shhh..." Eric hushed Kyle when he separated, and ran a thumb over the boy's wet lower lip for emphasis. And Kyle asked no questions, though he remained puzzled over the sudden gentle exchange. He noticed that his heart was left pounding in his chest. It hurt. In an odd way, it hurt more than any of the bites and bruises he'd received before. And yet, it felt a hundred times more... right.

His quiet contemplation was not granted to him for very long. Eric reached behind Kyle's head to undo the blindfold, allowing the boy to look up and see him. And Kyle saw, while a troubled shiver coursed through his spine in response.

Cartman stood beside the bed, walking slowly around its perimeter in a smooth, arrogant step. He was no longer naked, and his stride was accented by a pair of extremely nut-hugging black leather pants. The tight fit seemed to form and shape the thick thighs in all the right places. The clink Kyle had heard earlier came from the heavy silver buckle that fastened a thick, black belt around Eric's waist. And the heavy clunking footsteps belonged to a pair of heavy-duty steel-toed combat boots.

But what caught Kyle's throat, what made him swallow hard in a mixture of terror, hatred and even a bit of guilty anticipation, was a riding crop grasped in Eric's right, open-finger-gloved hand, a red-white-and-black band on his left upper arm bearing the symbol of Kyle's bane, and a hat perched on his head that fit so neatly, proudly proclaiming Eric's allegiances in a war long over. The ever-watching, ever-judging stare of Eric Cartman never once left Kyle's face, taking in each reaction of his to-be victim and feeding off of them.

Kyle could feel his body flush hot under Cartman's gaze, which seemed to be analyzing his bound, naked body as if seeing it for the first time ever. He was vulnerable, exposed... and it turned him on. It was no surprise that Eric mocked laughter to see Kyle's body react to such scrutiny... It clearly proclaimed his authority and control of the situation, not to mention the Jew's total helplessness.

"What's the matter, boy? You like what you see?" Eric had completed his intimidating circuit around to the other side of the bed. He leaned his bare, heavy chest over Kyle's shivering, restrained body. With the leather tip of the crop, he softly stroked a path down Kyle's cheek, then pressed it at the chin to turn the head this way and that, as if inspecting for flaws. Eventually he nodded to himself, and guided the crop along to other parts of the body in a much similar fashion. He would stop to experiment on this spot or that, whenever Kyle showed a reaction of pleasure, displeasure, or ticklishness.

Eric was visibly taking mental notes of Kyle's many sensitive areas, nodding at his own thoughts, despite knowing just about every one of them already. But eventually, he came across one pleasure spot that he displayed genuine surprise at discovering. It had never crossed his mind before that Kyle's body might twist and writhe as violently as it did in unmistakable pleasure should his wrists, palms, and fingers be teased.

'Perfect,' Eric thought as his smirk grew wide and plotting. 'A new weakness to exploit, should all the other places get boring. And what a reaction!' Hell, there were only two other spots on Kyle's body that could make him moan out any louder than that. One of which, he moved on to next. Sliding up the hardened shaft, the crop's leather bit teased Kyle into convulsive shivers.

"Uuuhnn!! Eric, please tou—" Kyle's plea was cut short, though, when Eric whipped the crop hard over the boy's lanky thigh.

"Shut the fuck up," Cartman hissed. "I did not tell you to speak." Kyle's pained whimper drifted into a blunt squeak when the crop came down across his thigh a second time for emphasis. "Now apologize."

"I—I'm sorry..." he said timidly. Thwack! This time, Kyle felt the biting sting across his cheek. "_Verzeihen sie mir, Oberfuhrer Cartmann_!" He barked the statement that had been trained into his mind, hoping to appease Cartman properly this time. Cartman seemed to straighten up his body, a great smirk splitting his face while he dragged on a silence that had Kyle squirming.

"...Better," he finally let on, and watched as Kyle bit his lip to hold back a cry of relief. But as the fresh sting where crop met flesh spread through his body and dulled, the pain eased into something more pleasing, ever-throbbing and present. It enveloped his body and forced out pleasured moans, which Eric accented with a quiet, taunting laugh.

"Aaah, _mein Juden_... If only you could see how tempting you look right now. Such a lewd, slutty body, practically glowing in its want for me... It's almost disgusting, how filthy you are." Cartman's words were drawn out, filled with self-righteous confidence, cutting into the bound boy's mind like a knife. Kyle tried to hide his red, angered face in his shoulder, biting back the venomous reply he so wished to yell. But no, it was too early in the game to lose it... That would please the sadistic bigot far too much, too soon. And, well... to be honest, pleasing him now would just make everything end too quickly.

Eric licked his lips. Kyle hadn't risen to the bait. Very well, those weren't the only buttons he could press. Switching the crop off to his left hand, his gloved right reached down to caress the two proper welts he had inflicted, as if admiring the beginnings of his work. His eyes flicked to Kyle's; the smirk on his lips promised more to come. And, as if fortifying his promise, he dug his thumb hard into the more swollen of the two welts, making the body twist with a protesting hiss.

"Mmmh, that's it... You just love how that feels, don't you, faggot?" Eric baited some more. But Kyle gave no reply, his caught breath releasing slowly from his throat. Only when the thumb was lifted from the sore, could Kyle form any sort of reply.

"It'sss... unpleasant," he gasped his words, not admitting the whole truth, the changes that occurred when the initial stinging would fade away. Eric's hard stare made Kyle gulp and add on, "_Oberfuhrer_..."

"Yes, I imagine it is. But..." and he waited in silence to watch a small, tell-tale shiver pass through Kyle's body. "But you leave out the whole story." He smirked knowingly. Kyle couldn't hide back his blush; not that suppressing it would make his excitement any less visible.

Oddly enough, Eric surprised Kyle by untying his bound right wrist. When Eric did nothing more, Kyle warily regarded him, also doing nothing. He knew that if he did the wrong thing, he would be punished. So he waited for instruction 'like a good little Jew'.

"Well, go on. Take care of yourself," Eric instructed, waving a hand facetiously and backing away from the bed to watch. When Kyle only blinked in response, Eric scowled and his voice grew irritated. "Well for fuck's sake, faggot, start stroking or I'll cut the goddamn prick off!" he threatened. Kyle blushed again. Eric had to wonder how the boy could sustain enough blood in his body to color his entire upper torso and face such a bright red, while still maintaining a strong, proper erection. He envied that ability, to be sure... But it made him smug, too, knowing that Kyle could sustain his blood lust far more than the average person could. It was as if his body was designed with Cartman in mind.

Kyle's hand hesitated for a moment, but he quickly remedied that before his falter became a mistake. He tentatively touched himself despite his embarrassment. Masturbating was one thing, but being scrutinized while doing it was quite another, and he was not fond of being put in that position at all. But he stroked himself anyway, if not just to keep his erection from deflating in the discomfort. But Cartman wasn't pleased with him, as his scowl surely relayed.

So Kyle tried to shut Eric's presence out of his mind. He closed his eyes and began to service himself, pushing away the feeling of being watched. The more he brought himself to forget, the faster his stroking got. The faster it got... the more he could forget, and soon enough, he was biting his lip and moaning from his own touch, squeezing in just the places he loved to be squeezed. He was really getting into his rhythm, to the point where his surroundings had become obsolete. Only the sudden presence of two fingertips against his lips shocked him into remembering his settings, though he was too far gone to stop.

Eyes half-open and looking up, he studied the expressionless face while he separated his lips to let the pressing fingers enter his mouth. Between the tastes of the bigger boy's sweat and his general habit of snacking on junk foods throughout the day, the salty flavor was more than enough to urge Kyle on to sucking those two digits wet. He ran his tongue up and down the skin, working for the addictive tastes, stroking himself all the while.

It wasn't long before Kyle's eyes drifted closed again, and he was moaning heavily over Cartman's fingers. He just loved the feeling of them pressing down on his tongue... His stroking became erratic as he fondled his way to completion, eager to finish Eric's show. But he was not given that chance, as right before his climax arrived, Cartman grabbed his hand and yanked it away from his need.

Kyle nearly howled in protest; that was SO not fair! But a gaping wide mouth only allowed the other two thick fingers of Cartman's hand to invade his throat, choking any of his arguing cries off. Kyle tried to struggle his hand free, but the grip only hardened, cutting off circulation and crushing the tendons in his wrist. He caved to Eric's will with an audible whimper of defeat.

Eric's expression remained unmoved, despite the small triumph that fueled his very existence. Instead of rubbing it in, he snorted and went on wetting his fingers thoroughly with Kyle's saliva. The thin daywalker complied, until Cartman was well satisfied. Of course, Kyle knew full well what the next destination for those meaty, slick fingers would be, and so, his legs were spread even before he got the command. To this, the sadist allowed his expression to change to something of an approving smirk.

Kyle would not have yipped in discomfort, had it been only one finger at a time violently shoving its way inside him; however, Eric knew that as well, and... Well, where was the fun in that? With a hungry grin, he had forced three of the four inside without offering the Jew even a moment of physical adjustment. Scissoring and twisting, he worked ruthlessly at the muscle, and to his pleasure, the ring gave in without much of a fight, indicating its well-used state as of late.

"Ahh... Feel that, kike? Feel how well-trained your body is becoming? It's almost as if you DO let that black-haired son of a bitch have a go whenever my back is turned. Aaah, Kahl... Slutty, slutty Kahl."

"Eric, I—" Thunk! Knuckles connected with cheek in the same spot the crop had hit earlier, forcing up a massive, ugly bruise on Kyle's face.

"Quiet, faggot. Don't give me any of your Jewish bullshitting. Was he jealous when he found out about me? Is that why he got so pissed off? Does he rock your fucking world half as well as I do? Is he, perhaps, bigger than me, you greedy little cock hound? Hm. No. I'll bet that's not the case at all. Turn over, faggot. On your belly."

Kyle winced, then slowly maneuvered onto his stomach, which was no easy task. You'd have a rough time of it, too, if you had to pivot around several fingers in your ass while your wrist was still tied to a bedpost. But eventually, after much unflattering twisting, he managed it and lowered his stomach and chest to the bed sheets.

"No. Stan's not like that. He's far too yellow. I'll bet he..." Cartman removed his fingers from Kyle's ring, climbed up onto the bed and loomed over top of the still, quiet body. His mouth hovered next to Kyle's ear, voice low in demonstration. "...I'll bet he whispers sensual seductions in your ear, hm? Then he... runs his fingers all over your naked body, like this..." he again demonstrated, keeping his touch light and feathery. Kyle's entire body shivered. "Then he follows with his tongue, right?" And Eric licked the entire length of Kyle's spine, from his tailbone to the hairline on the back of his neck. A high-pitched gasp escaped the boy's throat.

"And finally," Kyle heard the warning of the buckle unfastening, followed by a small zipping sound, "he tells you how much he loves you, right?" To this, Kyle looked over in surprised shock. The resolute, unfeeling tone of Eric's voice did not match the hungry glare on his face. "He manipulates you with useless words, disgusting lies, just so he can feel you on the inside," and Kyle choked back a yelp from being entered dry, "using your sweet little body to get over all the sexual tension his cunt of a girlfriend leaves him with." Kyle could not respond despite desperately wanting to, for Cartman began to fuck him roughly, a hand on his lower back keeping him both pinned and winded for breath.

Kyle was helpless against the onslaught. Cartman had predicted the angle perfectly, teasing and pushing against that special hot spot inside him. And he was ruthless, never stopping for a breath, and never letting Kyle catch his. Cartman looked down at the tense, sweaty back below him. It was thin, bony, but far from frail, built from constant hours on the basketball courts.

And right beside where his bear-paw of a hand lay... there was a scar. A scar that both of them shared; one that had both saved and given Kyle life. Eric very nearly grinned. Their bodies were connected in so many more ways than just through pleasure... Kyle felt a thumb run over the numb white tissue, and was also reminded of this fact. His moan brought Eric back to the task at hand... Angry. He was supposed to be angry.

"He shares nothing with you, you know. Nothing but memories. No blood, no bonds... Never has he given anything up to save you. Not like I have. I've done so much for you... Sacrificed so much, given so much to you... Your life and your body are as good as mine, Kyle. You belong to me." And still, Kyle could form no reply, not between his panting and the deeply pleasured moans escaping his throat. He was getting close... 'So close, that's it, right there,' were the only words he wanted, needed to say, but they just wouldn't form.

And his budding climax was upon him once again, edging ever closer... Closer and closer, here it was, and..! Cartman stopped.

"NO! No, no no, nonono!! Eric, fuck, please!!" Kyle screamed, begging for release, but Eric shoved his face into the pillows to shut him up. The protests became more vocal, more colorful, more distressed. Cartman smiled wide, thinking of the blueballs the poor boy must have been suffering.

Kyle, red with frustration and pain, wrenched at his binding. Discomfort was displayed on every inch of his body, and Cartman reveled in it. He kneeled then, raising Kyle's waist up with him. At this new angle, he continued to fuck the writhing boy without rubbing over the prostate. Kyle raised his head from the pillows, his desperate pleading continuing all the while.

"Please, Cartman..! Oh god, please let me get off..!" but his complaints wouldn't be heard for long. When he worked up the nerve to reach for his own erection with his free hand, Cartman blew a fuse. He was livid. He picked up the crop that'd been abandoned on the bedside, and brought it down hard over Kyle's shoulders.

***

Downstairs, Liane paced in the kitchen. She knew those screams that she heard, knew them well... She couldn't help but blame herself for this. How long has this been going on? Why did she have to be such a horrible mother, turning a blind eye to all those signs?

Oh, that poor boy in there, how he's screaming..! Little Kyle Broflovski, he was such a fragile looking child. Oh, she should put a stop to this! She should call Sheila! No, nono... She knows those screams, oh how she knows them! She, herself, had screamed like that so often...

No, be blissful, be ignorant, Liane. Oh! But that scream again! What should she do? She should make dinner. Yes, a feast! They'll be ever so hungry once they're done...

***

"FUCK! Eric!! _AAAaaah_!!" Kyle's shouting went disregarded. Again and again, the tip of the crop bit hard into his flesh. Tears flooded down his cheeks. His back was on fire, and the relentless flames just would not subside. Eric's grunts seemed to grow louder with every scream. Kyle looked back over his shoulders through the blur of his tears, and the crimson splatters seemed to cover... everything. Eric's expression was completely inhuman. There was nothing recognizable in it... It was purely sadistic, completely aggressive, and totally disconnected from reality.

Thwack!!

The crop hit a fresh wound, tearing into muscle. Kyle's scream came even louder than before... and Eric's body thrust deep into him in one long, slow shove, spine curled forward. The crop fell, forgotten. Cartman's fingers dug into Kyle's shoulder blades, and scratched a path down through the sea of sores, opening every single welt wide and drawing out a fresh flowing river of hot, crimson blood.

Kyle's cry was more of a gargle; his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and before he passed out, the last thing he felt was the warmth of Eric's seed emptying into the depths of his bowels.

***

When he came to, he was completely disoriented. He could only groan... Where the hell was he? Ugh, the pain! Got to get up...

"Stay."

One word. And he froze in his attempt to rise. Not that he could get far, between the thick hand anchoring him into place at the neck, and the protesting pain that shot through his entire body. The strength of the hand only eased when Kyle's body did, and it began to rub gently at his upper shoulders with a quiet, comforting concern.

"Easy. Just lay down there... The bleeding's only just clotted, and the sores are very angry... Give them more time."

"Eric..?" Kyle questioned quietly, his raw throat cracking. He turned his head slowly, and a pair of dark brown eyes met his dimmed, hazy green ones from barely a foot away.

"How do you feel?" And Kyle smiled. Eric's voice remained as steely and uncaring as ever, yet his gaze and his touch betrayed his facade.

"Feel like I got run over by a Semi... But it was more like a tank, wasn't it?" his sore voice joked. Eric snorted. Kyle looked around to get his bearings. He was laying face-down on the couch in the Cartman living room, with Eric sitting on the floor by his head. The bigger boy was still shirtless and still wearing his leather, though he'd at least ditched the offensive hat and arm band. A breeze flowed over Kyle's body, forcing a shiver from him while it cooled the burning pain of his back. The cold alerted him that he was fully naked, and he looked back to Cartman in alarm.

"Your mom..?" he inquired.

"She helped stop the bleeding. It wasn't easy," he laughed, and presented his blood-stained hands as evidence. Kyle looked over them, let his own hand take one, and guided the massive digits to his lips to suck them clean, one by one. Eric shuddered.

"Thank you," Kyle words remained soft. Cartman's brows furrowed. He had caused this. He had tortured the boy. He had ripped into these wounds with his own fingers to get off in his lust. Why was he being thanked? As if Kyle followed his thoughts, he elaborated. "I don't hate it. I don't hate you. It's going numb, now... But it feels good for a while, you know? The pain is nice." Eric pursed his lips in thought.

"Oh! Oh Eric, he's awake! Why didn't you say so? Oh, Kyle... I just— I don't— I... I made you boys a huge dinner, dearie. Once you can get up... Please, please come eat your dear little heart out! Oh Eric, do help him get up!" Liane fussed, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She didn't seem to think she should move any closer.

"Mahm, for fuck's sake. Stop panicking. It's not like he's dead, you know," Eric snapped at her while she fumbled, semi-hysterically, with a dishrag. Her eyes watered up.

"Oh Poopsiekins, I know... I know." Eric ignored her blubbering and stood up, with Kyle tossing him an alarmed glance. Eric ran his fingers through Kyle's red, wiry curls.

"Just stay put. I'm just gonna go get your pants," he reassured.

"O—oh..." Kyle blushed, remembering his shame. As if also realizing the situation, Liane turned back into the kitchen with an exclamation, leaving the naked boy his privacy. While Eric was leaping his way up the stairs to his room, Kyle tested out his own mobility. By time Eric returned, all he had managed to accomplish was elevating his upper body to his elbows.

"'EY!" Cartman yelled from the stairs, making his way quickly over. "God damn it, Jew, I said don't move!" Cartman's voice was harsh, but his hands were gentle. He helped Kyle stand, making slow work of the process, eyes glued to the mess of Kyle's back should any scab decide to split. Kyle winced, and his arms flew around Cartman's broad shoulders while a wave of nausea made a pass, and bile burned at his esophagus. Neither moved a single muscle until Kyle fought the vomit back and could relax once more.

"How bad is it?" he whimpered.

"It looks like a fuckin' meat grinder," Eric's response was blunt. Then he added, "Or maybe a tank's treads." A smirk played over his face, and Kyle laughed with him, slipping off of his shoulders.

It wasn't easy, getting Kyle's pants on. He had no one-legged balance whatsoever, and couldn't bend to use Cartman's kneeling body for support, so they walked him over to a wall, and Cartman had to dress him from behind. Afterwards, though, Kyle had collected most of his bearings and could at least stand on his own.

"Jesus Christ, Eric. You couldn't go easy on my body if you tried, could you?" Kyle playfully challenged.

"'Ey! I could fuck you real yellow if I bloody wanted to," he rose to the bait. His expression was a mixture of defiance and defensive pride.

"No. No, you couldn't fuck me yellow. Because.." Kyle paused, making the glaring Eric wait. "...I wouldn't be able to get off." He laughed as Eric's unguarded expression changed from surprise to a deviant pride.

"You bet that tight ass, you wouldn't. You fuckin' owe me new bed sheets. It looks like a bloodbath up there, and you fuckin' jizzed everywhere after you fainted."

"And whose fault is that?" Kyle mocked irritation, stepping towards Eric and trying to look intimidating. Eric closed the distance, chest to chest, glaring down at the redhead who'd lost to him in the battle for height by a couple inches.

"What are you saying, daywalker?" His voice was a hushed, threatening whisper.

"I'm saying you pack some damn good fudge, you fat fuck." Kyle's voice was just as vicious, and a smirk played over his lips. Cartman contemplated a reply for several moments, but instead, joined Kyle's smirk with one of his own.

"Bitch, you're making me hungry." He turned to the kitchen. "Let's eat." Kyle followed him with a gentle laugh.

While they ate from the plethora of delicacies Liane provided them, Kyle quietly contemplated that exchange, careful not to sit all the way back in his chair. They were always like that, together. Two of the world's biggest enemies known to man; they just didn't know how to get along. It really wasn't easy to say whether they were 'together' or not... 'Boyfriends' was certainly not a suitable term, under the circumstances. If you ever actually had to put a word to it, then 'fuck buddies' was a bit harsh, implying that there was room for other relationships, so the word 'lovers' would just have to do.

The words 'I love you' would be great to hear, Kyle knew. But words were just that: words. Intangible. Unbinding. Gone as soon as they've been spoken. And Kyle also knew that those three words would never leave Eric's mouth... Especially not for the Jew he'd always hated. But even so—and Kyle poked the fettuccini around on his plate while realizing this—maybe it wasn't superficial after all. Just because the words would never be said, it doesn't mean the feelings don't exist. Yes... Kyle was indeed loved. His eyes met Cartman's, who had noticed his deep thought session. And Kyle knew that, without verbal expression, he would give Eric all that love back as well. After all: actions spoke louder than words.

Liane had left the room while the boys were gorging. Cartman swallowed the chunk of meat he'd been chewing, his eyes never once leaving Kyle's.

"You're not so bright, you know," he started suddenly, capturing Kyle's attention. "Telling that fucker that I'd never hurt you, that I'm not a threat... But you were right about one thing. You DO need me. You wouldn't know how to function without me." Apparently, Eric had been doing some deep thinking of his own... "And I will never give you that opportunity. You will never get that chance. Because you are mine, you will always be mine, and you know as well as I do that, inside, you wouldn't have it any other way. Run, I dare you to run if you ever feel like denying it. But I will be here when you return... and you WILL return."

And Kyle smiled to himself on the inside. There was his 'I love you', in all its malevolent, sanctimonious glory. And he nodded at Cartman's words, because every single one of them was the fucking truth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: I get off on your reviews. Seriously! So review, and make me a happy camper!

So, here you go. Much more kink in this second chapter, I must say... Still pretty PWP, although there IS actually a very basic plot continuation somewhere in there... Oh, and this is it, there won't be any more chapters added. Just these two. I'm happy with it as it is.

I've been very happy with the reviews I've received so far, and I want to thank all of you for them, as well as for your time. This chapter is a little... rougher than the last, but I'm hoping that's what you guys want to see more of.

**Warnings**: Cartman x Kyle, Male x Male intercourse, very strong language, consensual sexual abuse, choking, much more blood fetish, slight voyeurism.

If any of these offend you, then turn your silly little tail around and don't let the door hit you on your way out.

**Disclaimer**: I've already disclaimed. My lack of ownership rights have not changed since then.

* * *

The next day, Kyle woke up in a world of pain.

Eric had insisted that he spend the night... and Kyle was more than ready to agree. The last thing he needed right now was for his mother to freak out and have a conniption over the bruise on his cheek, or the reason he can't sit properly, and the last thing he wanted to do was lie to her over the cause. He didn't think he would ever be ready to reveal the truth to her just yet. Both of the boys agreed that he was better off keeping out of sight until at least the swelling went down.

So with a phone call home, using temporary tutoring as an excuse, Kyle had permission to stay until Sunday night... so long as he didn't miss school at all. Kyle had groaned after that call... School. It was going to be hell, to say the very least. But despite Cartman's persistent advice to skip, he was determined that he would suck it up and just take Friday on, one step at a time.

Cartman's alarm clock buzzed obnoxiously. Both boys groaned from their makeshift bed on the floor. Neither one had the will to wake up. Neither one wanted to shut the damn thing off, because the effort would wake their bodies up. But both of them damned its incessant buzzing and even its existence to hell for making them so miserable.

"God fucking DAMN it, _SHUT UP_!" Cartman roared in annoyance, rolling on the floor towards the side-table the damn insufferable racket came from. He reached up but couldn't quite get hold of the contraption, and his fist pounded the ground angrily. In his frustration, he grabbed the cord that was within his reach and yanked it from the outlet. Kyle moaned his praise for the silence that followed... but all that noise and fuss had them both much too awake to fall back asleep.

Kyle sighed then, and made a move to get up. A pained whimper followed, reminding Cartman of his roughed up condition. Eric shifted back over to his earlier spot and pulled away the sheet that covered Kyle. He had been sleeping on his stomach, so Eric could see the damage he'd done right away. Inspecting both the cuts and the sheets, he was pleased to find no new blood... It was a very good thing that that Kyle slept like a rock at night.

The bed would have been much nicer for sleeping than the floor, true enough... But Eric hadn't exaggerated when he claimed that the bed had looked like a blood bath. And the mattress underneath the sheets hadn't been spared either, so it had been washed, and was using the nighttime to dry out while the boys were left to the floor's mercy. And it had not been merciful to either of them.

"You can still skip, you know. I can pick up all your homework for you," Eric offered sleepily. Try as the boy might to hide it, Kyle's pained expression was not lost on him.

"No..." Kyle groaned. "I'll only get worse if I don't move around." He shook his head. The notion of staying floor-ridden all day, especially when he couldn't even lay on his back, was not a welcoming thought. With a yawn, he turned a warm, tired look to Eric.

"Fine. But if you start bleeding at all today, you get your goddamn black ass straight to the nurse's office and send for me. If you don't, I swear, I'll tear every last scab open myself and grind salt into them," he threatened without an ounce of humor in his voice. Kyle nodded and looked away.

"We should bandage it," he suggested. "And I could kill for some Percs right now... Got any?"

"In the bathroom," Eric nodded. "Percs in the cabinet, leftovers from god knows what... and gauze under the sink." He stood up slowly, making unnecessary strained noises, then he offered a hand to his Jew. It was a slow process, helping Kyle up, but neither was in much of a rush, anyway. The alarm was set earlier than usual, so they had plenty of time to play with. Once up, Eric looked over the cuts again, then gave Kyle a thumbs-up. Kyle grimaced.

"Man, next time you rip my body apart, could you do it in a spot that's a little less... essential?"

"I'll fuck your shit up where I want, when I want," Eric snorted. Kyle glowered.

"Well... whatever. Come give me a hand." He walked around Cartman and left the room, heading down the hall for the bathroom in his boxers. Eric followed in step behind him, examining the extent of the damage he'd done as they walked. Neither one had been sentient enough to keep count of just how many times the crop had bit flesh the night before... but by the looks of it, thirty-five to forty seemed like a good guess. Not every strike had broken skin; just the later ones that hit previously weakened spots.

After they'd entered the bathroom, Cartman reached forward and brushed his fingertips over a particularly prominent scab, eliciting a yip and a shiver from Kyle.

"Eric..! Be careful! It's still tender..."

"It's beautiful. Let's just hope it scars as beautifully," Eric mused distractedly. Kyle turned to him angrily.

"If it scarred, my mom would find out in no time..."

"So? Let the bitch find out. My mom found out, and she was fine with it."

"First of all, don't call my mom a bitch. Second? Your slut of mother has no right to judge how her son gets off. And third? If MY mom found out, the next and last time you'd see me would be at my funeral, or with my back to this shitty town after I get shunned for eternity," Kyle hissed venomously. Cartman's brow was menacing for a moment, but he chose not to rise to the bait of his own mother's flaws.

"Only a mega-bitch would kick her son out, Kyle."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!!" Kyle threw his hands up, red with sheer frustration. "Just hurry up and bandage this shit up, I don't want to be late." Eric snorted defiantly, but bent to retrieve the gauze and set to work wrapping the childishly fuming Jew.

***

"Dude. Hey. Kyle, are you okay, man?" Stan whispered, eyeing him worriedly. The two sat together in their Advanced Lit course, chairs side by side at the table. Every so often, Kyle would let out a labored breath, revealing his discomfort to his friend. Kyle would smile to Stan reassuringly, though he knew he didn't fool him one bit. The bruise on his cheek and the unmistakable pain in his eyes was more than enough evidence to keep Stan worried.

Stan pursed his lips, obviously skeptical, but he dropped the issue and turned to the chalkboard where the next line of their notes was being written. He was still feeling pretty sour over the confrontation the day before; but still, nothing could convince him to ignore his best friend in pain.

Kyle cursed at himself every time that his condition slipped his mind and he absently sat into the back of his chair, immediately shooting forward from the pain. Oh, the stools in the science labs were going to be such a relief, later... Not only would he not have to worry about his back, but he also wouldn't have Stan nearby in need of placation every few minutes or so, either. Sure, it was great to know that Stan was concerned... but it was Stan's scorn slowly building up that had Kyle dreading the first moment that they would find alone together.

He pulled his trapper hat tighter over his head, finding comfort underneath its green brim, even if it didn't actually hide him from anybody's sight. He focused on the handouts scattered around in front of him. Homework for the weekend? Not on his watch... While everyone copied the review notes from the board, he filled out as much of the short-essay questions as he could, freeing up time for relaxation, and keeping his wounds away from the chair as he bent over his work.

***

When they were dismissed, Kyle head off for his locker, oblivious to Stan's pursuit. He hadn't expected to be followed; Stan's next class was on the other side of the building, and he usually went straight there. So when a hand connected with his shoulder, he jumped in genuine surprise, turning away from exchanging his books.

"S—Stan?" He puzzled nervously. "You're going to be late..."

"If I'm late, I'm late... What did he do to you, Kyle?"

"...Who?" Kyle evaded quietly, knowing exactly who was meant.

"God damn it Kyle, don't play stupid today... Cartman! What did he do to you after I left, yesterday?"

"We went to his house, Stan... Do you really want to hear about what two fags do behind closed doors..?" Kyle asked tiredly as he raised an eyebrow, ready to indulge any detail that might chase Stan off.

"Jesus Christ, no!" Stan paled, rubbing his temples in frustration. "That's not what I mean and you know it, Kyle! You're in pain; I'm not blind. And I'm not going to just stand by and do nothing while that fatass psychopath beats on you." His voice was as raised as it could get without attracting unwanted eavesdroppers from the students scrambling about in the hall. Kyle sighed.

"Look, I told you. All of it is consensual. Even if he does beat me, at least he takes care of me afterwards. And it's not like it's abuse or anything..." Stan huffed skeptically at that, and Kyle grimaced. "Stan, think about it. He's always been there. Always been that other half of me. Even if we butt heads constantly, I really, really wouldn't know how to function without him." He spread his arms, palms upward in emphasis.

His gesture was poorly timed, though; a student happened to be rushing by, and collided with an arm, stumbling before rushing off to their class without so much as an apology. The force wasn't all that great, but it was still enough to swing his body around, jarring his back against the edge of his locker door. He couldn't hold back his pained cry as he wrenched his body away from the metal corner.

"Oh god!" he yelled, then he bit his lip to quiet himself. Several students had stopped to look at him, hoping to catch something interesting going down, but the bell signaling the start of the next period went off and the stragglers rushed off in a hurry to make it to their classes on time.

Stan, however, remained. He was quite visibly upset. He grabbed all of Kyle's books and shoved them back into the locker, then slammed its door shut. Then he took a hold of Kyle's wrist and dragged him off towards the washrooms. Kyle protested, pulled, and fought the entire way, but Stan easily overpowered him, angry as he was.

"Just shut up, Kyle," he demanded, tugging him through the bathroom door. Once inside, they were greeted by Craig and Clyde, who'd gotten the idea to skip their next class together. They were passing a cigarette back and forth. Clyde raised an eyebrow, being the first to notice the unusually thick atmosphere between Stan and Kyle. But his and Craig's existence were ignored while Stan angrily tore Kyle's shirt off, the green hat falling off in the process as well, and both were dropped to the floor.

Stan, Craig and Clyde all took a look at Cartman's neat, precise bandaging job. Kyle's torso was wrapped entirely, from his underarms to his navel. He was so tightly bound, that it gave very little forgiveness for movement, and even breathing was a chore.

"Who the hell did you piss off, Broflovski?" Craig laughed before taking a deep drag then passing the stick off to Clyde. Kyle met his eyes nervously for a moment, but said nothing.

"Holy shit, Kyle, you're bleeding!" Stan exclaimed from behind him, noticing the fresh red on the back of the wrap. Before Kyle could stop him, Stan was tearing at the bandages, ignoring the Jew's struggles to keep them on. "Jesus-fucking-Christ!" Stan's breath caught sharply. Clyde and Craig grew curious; from their perches on the sink counter, all they could see was Kyle's front. But their imaginations weren't left running for long. Kyle turned, trying to keep Stan's eyes away from the scabby mess.

His back was lined with many, many horizontal welts, several of which only marred the skin superficially, while the majority of them were scabbed over. Several scabs had opened down the center of his back, where the impact of the locker door had hit. The blood flow was considerably light, only just squeezing through the cracked platelets. Stan began to laugh. The sounds of his laughter was harsh, angry, borderline hysterical...

"Not abuse!" he shouted between laughs. "Not fucking abuse!?" He grabbed Kyle's chin and turned the boy's head so that he could see the angry sores himself in the mirror above the sinks. "You can't fucking tell me that that is not abuse!" He was livid now, as well as disgusted.

Craig turned to Clyde, and they silently conferred. As interesting as this could potentially get, they knew that it wasn't for them to witness. Clyde ground the filter of their shared smoke out in the sink before they wordlessly slipped out of the room, in search of a new hideout.

"Stan..." Kyle tried softly, though the jock was already nearly shaking with rage.

"How long has this been going on?" Stan demanded, controlling his words through grit teeth.

"We've... been fucking for over a month, now..."

"Only fucking?"

"Only..? What do you mean?"

"You've only been fucking. Just screwing around? No dates or anything like that?"

"Dates?" Kyle wrinkled his nose at the thought. "No... I guess not. I mean... It's not like we need to 'get to know each other better', or anything..." He thought this over, quietly.

"Then dude, if he's not your boyfriend, just stop seeing him! Look what he's done to you! Does this honestly make you feel like he likes you? Like he cares about what happens to you? Do you actually believe you're happy, like this? And what if it gets worse than this, Kyle!? What if he fuckin' _kills_ you some day!?" Stan's voice was raised, letting out his frustrations. But it was Kyle's turn to get angry. His head was bowed and his fists were clenched, one hand clutching at his chest. He took a heavy breath so he could control his tone and his words.

"Stan, that's... That's not the way it is. No, maybe he doesn't hug me, or kiss me, or tell me that he loves me... but that doesn't mean that he doesn't actually love me. He does. In his own way. The sex... Maybe it's not romantic. Hell, maybe it really is only about the pleasure. But he cares, afterwards. He doesn't just leave me to bleed... he helps me heal. Always, Stan."

"Listen to yourself! Listen to what you're defending! It's not right; that's NOT the way love is supposed to work! Think about it!" Kyle's lips curled into a sneer.

"Fuck, just because you have all that pussy-pounding romance _bull shit_ going on with Wendy," Kyle's sarcasm was strong, "that doesn't make you the world's expert on all the many ways of how to love! You have NO idea how we feel together... What makes you so righteous that you can decide our feelings for us!?"

"I'm your best friend, Kyle! I'm concerned about your health! Don't I have the right to be?"

"Stan..! Fuck..." Kyle rubbed at his temples. "Hear me out, okay? Eric and I... We're both happy. I make him feel important. He makes me feel needed. He needs power, and I need his touch. We may seem... broken to you right now, but things are broken to be fixed. Right? Time. Patience. That's all we need. Maybe one day, he'll want to hug me. Maybe after that, he'll think it's okay to kiss me. And I don't need him to _tell_ me he loves me, not if I already know that it's true..."

"Kyle..!" Stan relented, raising his hands helplessly. Kyle sighed and walked up to him, embracing him. After an awkward moment, Stan allowed himself to return the favor, as he'd so often done throughout their childhood together. However, when his arms came in contact with the scabs, he had to pull back, traces of fresh blood left on his skin. Kyle saw it too.

"He likes my blood, you know," he started serenely, anger disappearing completely. "Likes the taste of it." He tilted his head to the side, showing an old, mostly healed bite wound on his shoulder. "When he gets off because of me, it thrills me, makes me get off, too. I like the pain, because he likes that I like the pain. I do it all for him, so that he can enjoy more of me, and I, him." Stan frowned and looked at the stains on his arm, considering Kyle's words.

Kyle took a hold of one hand and guided the arm towards his lips, cleaning Stan's skin of his own blood. The gesture made Stan wince, and he tried to pull away, but Kyle's eyes were distant. His mind was somewhere else entirely, somewhere far from this bathroom. He let the boy continue to clean his arms, making sure that they were both blood free.

BANG!

Both boys jumped, startled hard from the sound of the bathroom door crashing open. Before either one of them could gather just what had happened, Stan's body was barreled to the floor by a larger, heavy mass. Kyle yelled out in shock after hearing the crack of knuckles connecting with face, followed by the thud of skull connecting with slate floor tile. His lanky body was shortly on top of the far larger one, struggling to restrain it.

"E—Eric, no!! Get off of him!" Kyle yelled. He pulled at Eric's arms, but he was no match whatsoever for an enraged Cartman.

"You keep your fucking hands off of my propertah, Stan!!" Eric was shouting, barraging the jock with flying fists. Once Stan had finally gotten his bearings back, he was able to put up a struggle and fight back. Together, Kyle and Stan had the advantage in strength, but in his current state of mind, Cartman was an unstoppable force. His Jew, _his_ Jew, had been shirtless and hatless with his mouth all over Stan; someone was going to suffer, and they would suffer hard.

Kyle's desperate fists pounded ineffectively against Cartman's back, though all he needed to do was take the brunet's attentions off of his best friend and turn them onto himself. It worked; the body below him twisted, and a massive, pipe-like arm batted him aside effortlessly.

Kyle fell to the floor with a cry as he slid, his wounds grating on the tiles' grouted crevices, opening every gash that made contact. Both Eric and Stan broke their fight, turning their heads in alarm to Kyle's unmoving body, and the trail of deep crimson that flowed out from underneath him. It traveled ominously through the grout, like a slow, creeping river.

"You bastard!" Stan yelled, incredulous at the stupidity of Cartman's blinded action. But his voice only drew the giant's attentions back to himself, and his struggling body was flipped over onto his stomach. One-handed, Eric kept Stan's arms restrained, while his other hand worked the belt off of his thick waist. He used it to tie Stan's wrists in place, then got up off of him and turned to the bathroom door. He locked its deadbolt, keeping out anyone who might end up wandering in.

Patiently now, he turned to his Jew who laid broken and watery-eyed on the floor. He picked the boy up and carried him over to the sinks, where he made Kyle stand and bend over with his chest to the counter, allowing him to inspect the damage in the light.

"What are you doing, you fatass!? You have to get him to the nurse!" Stan urged from the floor, oblivious to the pool of blood his own nose was making in front of him. Instead of listening, Cartman snorted in disgust and violently began to tear open any scab that had gone untouched by the fall. Rivers of blood seeped out onto the counter, while Kyle yelped his pain.

"Shut the fuck up!" Cartman demanded, raking his nails angrily into the mess of wounds. Kyle bit his tongue, turning his shouts into a long, pained whine. "I told you, didn't I!? You didn't show up to History, I checked the nurse's office, and you weren't fucking there! Your black ass is lucky that I ran into Craig! I told you I'd tear every single one of them open, and you are SO fucking lucky I don't carry salt around in my ass pocket!" Yet his fingernails were doing a fine job replacing the salt's purpose, tearing at flesh and muscle.

"ERIC! Oh god, it fucking _hurts_!!" Kyle tried to struggle away. Stan was horrified by the scene.

"DUDE! Fuck, look at him!! Let him go, Cartman!" he urged desperately. Eric pulled his bloodied hands from the gory mess, turning slowly to Stan. Stalking over, he leaned down to grab the quarterback by his throat, picking him up then pinning him against the wall. Stan choked.

"You..." Eric hissed the word like poison. "This is all your fucking fault." He sneered and spat on Stan's face, making him squirm and cry out in disgust. Kyle shouted out, watching through the mirror.

"Eric, leave Stan alone! Please, leave him alone! He's never once touched me before, honestly! He's never even thought about me in that way!" Eric grunted and let go of Stan's throat, letting him fall to the floor on his ass.

"Bull-fucking-shit! I saw your slutty mouth all over him just now! Don't you dare tell me he's never touched you, you covetous piece of shit!" He stepped back over to Kyle slowly, glaring eyes loaded with hatred, anger, and... hurt. Kyle swallowed hard. He'd hurt Eric... _He_ hurt _Eric_. No, that was NOT the way things were supposed to be! His body started shaking in a bout of self-hatred.

"Oh god... Oh god, Eric... I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry!" his voice cracked, eyes welling up with fresh tears. "It's all my fault, I'm sorry... so sorry..!" he continued in a shaky whisper.

A pair of thick hands wrapped slowly around his neck. The gesture was comforting at first. But the hot tears still rolled down Kyle's cheeks, and the fingers closed hard around his throat, cutting off his air supply. Through his anguish, Kyle managed to convince himself to fight it, despite the roiling pain that consumed his body. He was weak. When Stan realized what was happening, his eyes grew wide in fear.

"Cartman! Fucking STOP!" he yelled. "He can't breathe!" Stan began a struggle of his own, trying to get to his feet by leaning against the wall. The labored sounds escaping from Kyle's direction urged him on, but his frantic impatience only caused him to fall back onto his ass several times. "CARTMAN!"

Kyle's eyes rolled to the back of his head. His lips were turning blue. His struggling died to a weak squirm, the fight in him vanishing fast. Only when Cartman sensed his very last panicked movement did he let the throat go, and Kyle forced as much air into his empty, aching lungs as he could possibly get. A strangled coughing fit followed, while his oxygen-deficit body painfully rushed the new supply all over his numb, limp form. The sting of pinpricks throughout his limbs rivaled in pain to that of the open lashes on his back.

Another deep breath, and Kyle felt the surge of air rushing its way to his brain, causing him hallucinations. Bright flashes haunted his vision. He fought for more air then, forgetting the importance of exhaling before having another go. After a while, he became conscious enough to feel the soothing touch of a hand stroking his shoulders. An angered voice ranted in the background, going on and on about things like 'killing him'. And in his consciousness, he felt the throb of an erection that could only be his own. He tried to form words, but only incoherent sounds left his sore throat.

"Shhh... Hush, Kahl... That's it, take it easy..." Eric's voice was manipulatively soothing, but Kyle grasped to it and let it lead him out of his stupor. The raving voice continued on in the background, but the only words Kyle caught were 'hypocrite', 'sadistic faggot', and 'calling the fucking cops'.

"S—Ssss... Stan, my fault... M'sorry... S'okay th—though," Kyle finally managed to form, hoping to placate his friend.

"It is not fucking okay! None of this is okay!"

Kyle felt the warm hand leave his back. Frantically, he tried to blink his eyes into focus, just barely managing to catch the sight of Eric punching Stan's face once more. He winced; all of this was his fault. He hurt Eric, and now he was hurting Stan. Looking back again, he watched as Eric plucked Stan's hat off his head and used it to gag him, shoving it pom-pom first into his mouth to shut him up.

"Eric," Kyle pleaded softly, ready to apologize once again. Instead, when Cartman's lusty, hungry eyes made contact with his own, what came out was an equally as lusty, "I'm hard..."

"Yeah?" Eric mused softly, once again returning to the weak body. "Me too." Kyle felt a shiver pass through his spine. Stan's muffled voice was frantic, completely unbelieving of what he'd just heard.

Kyle's breath came ragged as he spared Stan's purpled face a glance. Would he believe Kyle, perhaps, after witnessing their passion for himself? He shut his eyes softly when he felt Eric's tongue unexpectedly lapping at the pooled blood in the small of Kyle's back. He could hold back neither shiver nor moan, and the knowledge that Stan was watching on in horror only seemed to thrill him all the more.

Eric's tongue ventured up into the flowing sores and experimented with them, listening to Kyle's varied moans and hisses when his tongue would snake inside, touching bare muscle. For the both of them, this strange, morbid new feeling only got them more excited, convincing them that much more that they should give Stan a show.

Cartman backed off from Kyle's gashes, blood dripping down his chin from reddened lips, and he reached around Kyle's hips to unfasten his jeans. His hands continually brushed over the hard bulge beneath in the process, drawing out more of Kyle's sweet moans.

"Aaah, you really are nice and hard for me. That's my little Jew-fag..." Eric crooned, slipping his fingers down into the front of Kyle's pants. He massaged the front of his briefs, teasing the boy, making him squirm and try to grind his need harder into Eric's hand. But his body was still weak. Eric laughed, then slid both pants and underwear off of his legs, pushing shoes off with them.

Stan's muffled protests were slowly dying down in the background; he blushed heavily, and turned his head away. Sure, he'd seen Kyle naked before. Sure, he'd even seen him aroused... but never both states at the same time. It seemed much too wrong to look. And yet... his eyes drifted back slowly, and he watched Eric stand Kyle up.

"I don't want your Jewish blood all over my clothes. Undress me," Cartman demanded quietly, raising his red hands to justify Kyle's task. Not that Kyle needed the excuse... He made fast work of Eric's jacket and shirt, even with the effort it took his drained body. Then, he kneeled in front of the brute, eye-level with his crotch.

Stan blushed that much harder when he watched Kyle lean forward to undo Cartman's pants using only his mouth, button first followed by the zipper. Stan wondered that Eric didn't nail Kyle right then and there... He knew _he_ wouldn't be able to keep his own cool, if someone did something that sexy for him. But Eric played like he was totally unaffected, and Kyle just went on getting rid of shoes, socks, pants, and boxers.

A thick hand grabbed Kyle's arm once his task was complete, guiding him back up to his feet again. Kyle seemed dismayed. Stan tried not to imagine why, but Cartman's next words more than filled him in.

"Don't give me that look... You don't deserve a taste today." He then lifted Kyle's body, sitting him on the counter's edge and pressing at his chest until Kyle's shoulders rested on the mirror. Eric slipped a hand momentarily to Kyle's back, relinquishing fresh blood onto his fingertips. Kyle and Stan both watched Eric study the crimson fluid humorously, and both were curious about what caused such an expression...

And they were let in on the big joke soon enough, when he started to use Kyle's own blood as a lubricant. Spreading Kyle's thighs, he slid his slicked fingers over the waiting ring, which contracted in reaction to Eric's touch. The teasing digits made their way in, one at a time, being surprisingly gentler than Kyle was used to. Stan's stomach lurched... Time to look away again.

Kyle whimpered softly; the considerate touch had him squirming, twisting his body in a seductive display. His bright green eyes met Eric's directly, and Eric pulled his fingers free of Kyle's entrance.

"Look at you. My sweet little Jew has finally started his period. Looks like he's in heat pretty badly, too," he teased, flicking a fingertip over the prepared hole. Kyle shivered.

"Eric... please fuck me," his whisper came softly, but was filled with urgency. Despite himself, Stan let an eye wander to the couple. Eric only laughed at Kyle's plea.

"Well. I guess daddy shouldn't keep his boy waiting, should he?" Kyle brought his knees closer to his chest, displaying his agreement. Cartman's laughter was slow and quiet, while he advanced with patience. Stan's eyes widened. He couldn't see how big Eric was from where he sat, but it took plenty long enough for him to sink into Kyle's body. He shuddered at the thought. Good god, didn't it hurt? It hurt just to watch!

But Kyle's expression told a different story. The boy was trained to Cartman's girth; there was no doubt of that. Generally, the thought would have scared or disgusted Stan. But theory was one thing... and here he was, witnessing it in practice, right in front of his eyes. And much to his alarm, the more he watched, the less and less it disgusted him.

Cartman was rocking into Kyle now, slowly at first. They were both savoring the sensations they felt, Eric drawn in by the tight squeezing, and Kyle enjoying the sensations of feeling full. And because of how good they felt, the one intensified the feelings for the other; Kyle by his body's natural reactions, his muscles squeezing and contracting, and Eric by quickening his pace and driving himself deeper inside of his lover.

Cynically, Stan mused to himself how surprising it was that Cartman could keep up his rate without growing tired. He'd always been so big, so out of shape... And yet now, as he watched the body rock back and forth, Stan could see that the general belief accepted by of all of South Park's inhabitants might have been due for an update.

Muscle rippled through Cartman's arms, legs, and even his back. He was still pudgy to some extent; still thick, with a big gut... but all the fat did was camouflage all of the strength that hid underneath. The guy was huge; built like a tank. The only factor disillusioning all of South Park away from his well-proportioned filling out was his choice of always wearing baggy clothes in public. He never really _let_ anyone notice the changes, probably because of all the emotional baggage he carried with him from his childhood.

'Really...' Stan thought, 'It looks like the bastard's just big-boned after all.'

His eyes turned to Kyle, then; the sounds escaping the redhead's throat filled out into the air, so vibrant and so passionate that Stan would swear that he could feel the very pleasure his best friend was receiving for himself. The look in Kyle's eyes was one Stan had never seen before. His face was contorted into something of sheer bliss, and he had eyes only for Cartman. Nothing else existed.

Stan wished grudgingly that Wendy would make such a face for him. Unfortunately, with her, Stan was limited to just 'messing around'. She never really seemed to let him get any further than oral and foreplay, and between that and the constant breakups, it was frustrating to no end. He felt inadequate and left out. Wendy's prude behavior was so unfair, especially now that he witnessed the satisfaction being passed between these two...

A louder moan pulled Stan out from his deep thoughts. He noticed then that both Eric and Kyle were watching him watch them, with Cartman smirking through the mirror. The large boy leaned forward and whispered something into Kyle's ear, which made the redhead blush, even in his blood-deficient state. Stan had to force himself to look away once more, blushing bright red over being caught.

He felt embarrassed for having to witness what should be a private affair. He felt ashamed for feeling the erotic tension that filled the air, and getting hard himself because of it. And he felt disgusted at himself, too, for just moments ago begging Kyle to give up something Stan so obviously didn't understand in the first place. Confusion hit him like a sack of bricks. How was it possible for so much hate, pain and passion to exist together like this? How could it possibly be this electric, this powerful?

"Uhhnn, right there!!" Kyle gasped, yet again capturing Stan's attention. If it was even possible, Kyle looked like he was in even more ecstasy than before. He was clinging to Eric's body, their chests pressed together and his chin resting on a shoulder. Both of their eyes were closed, focused on the pleasure they gave each other and moving their bodies frantically for more. Kyle gave a yelp, and Stan could see through the mirror that Cartman's teeth had sunk into the side of Kyle's neck.

Although is wasn't visible, Stan could tell by the mix of guttural and panting moans, which grew louder with every passing moment, that the two were climaxing together. The scene was so intense that even Stan joined in with a heavy moan, grateful that the gagging hat had muffled the sound. Eric's body curled forward, and Kyle's nails raked down the sweaty, muscled back during their simultaneous orgasm, and everything seemed to freeze in time while they shared their release.

Kyle and Cartman collapsed together on the counter, with Kyle giving only a slight wince. Both lay still while Stan squirmed uncomfortably, not altogether anticipating what might happen once the two came down from their highs. He watched as the scratches on Cartman's back transformed from red streaks to a redder, swollen, angry series of raised claw marks. It was a pretty poor trade for the damage done to Kyle, but... Stan supposed that it was better than nothing at all.

Eric was the first to catch his breath. He wasted no time in getting to work, pulling himself gently from Kyle after three different bodily fluids had pretty much glued them together. He walked over to the paper towel dispenser, which had miraculously gotten its annual supply fairly recently, and was relatively full. Grabbing a huge handful, he threw the cheap sandpapery shit into a sink and ran the tap over them to soften them up some. While they soaked, he turned to Kyle and helped the boy sit up.

"Let me see," he demanded curtly, and Kyle wasted no time getting up, turning on weak legs to show Cartman his back. Blood streaked Kyle's body from his shoulder blades to his legs, where a thicker, pink substance drained between his thighs. Eric's fingers touched the wounds gently. Blood flow had lessened for the most part, but had no way of clotting throughout their vigorous activity.

He nodded in approval of what he saw, then shut the tap off. He used the wet towels to clean only himself, clearing away all the dried blood and drying seed that covered his own body. He got dressed afterwards when he was satisfied with his hygiene, then once everything was in order, he turned to acknowledge Stan.

"I'll be needing my belt now," he grumbled, and relieved Stan of the binding. Freed, he was able to yank his damn hat out from his mouth, and he choked and swallowed to restore saliva to the over-dry surfaces. Cartman turned to Kyle while he buckled up his belt.

"Stay here until I get back. Lock the door behind me. And for fuck's sake, don't let any of them scab over, or I'll just have to open them all again." Kyle nodded, fully understanding. Stan, however, was not so comprehensive.

"The fuck? Where are you going!?"

Cartman snorted disinterestedly, ignored Stan's anger, and left from the bathroom. Stan got up to give chase, but stopped at Kyle's bidding.

"Stan! Don't go, don't leave me alone like this... He said that he'd be back. He will be back," he reasoned. Stan grunted, but held back anyway, grudgingly re-locking the door. He held no trust for Cartman, but it wasn't like he could just leave Kyle alone in this condition.

"Fuck..." Stan sighed, not exactly sure what else to say. He looked at himself in the mirror for the first time since he was barreled to the ground. His face was a mess... though, Kyle was so much worse. Looking around, the bathroom actually looked like a slasher film's slaughterhouse. Blood was everywhere, covered everything from the floor, to the counter, to the sinks, to the mirrors... and even to the people inside it. Only then did Stan's stomach do a full flip, and he made a dash for the stalls. Kyle followed behind, pale, rubbing Stan's back in a comforting gesture.

"I'm sorry Stan... really sorry. You shouldn't have had to see that... and you definitely shouldn't have gotten hurt. It's my fault that he's been so jealous of you..." Stan spit up a final bit of vomit, shaking his head in disbelief then looking up at Kyle.

"Jealous of me? What the hell did I do to get him jealous?" he panted, wiping his watery eyes dry on his shirt.

"He thinks you're doing _me_." Kyle smiled sadly. "Won't listen to me when I tell him otherwise."

"Jesus fucking Christ... You mean he's been beating you because of _me_!?" Stan groaned.

"No! God no, Stan! It's not your fault anywhere near as much as it's mine," Kyle assured, leading Stan out of the stall after flushing away the fouled water. "Now let's get you cleaned up..."

"Me!? Damn it, dude, you need to get cleaned much more than I do," Stan argued. "Fuck... So much blood... Seriously, how the hell are you still alive right now?" He was genuinely baffled. Kyle grinned humorously, a twinkle in his eye.

"You could bleed as much as I do, too, if you were running on a Cartman Kidney." Kyle laughed, if only to himself. Stan grimaced, not appreciating the joke. He grabbed some of the wet paper towels that were left over, and turned with them towards Kyle, only to be waved off.

"Dude, we really should start getting some of that blood off of you," Stan tried to reason. Kyle shook his head.

"The last thing we need right now is Eric walking in with your hands all over me. I really don't think my body could handle a 'round two' right now," he snorted. "No, take care of your face, I'll watch for the door." He walked to stand by the entrance, not giving Stan any more room to argue. Defeated, the dark-haired boy began to dab at his bloodied face and neck, wincing as he touched the bruised areas, working the dried stains off.

"Nnnh... How the hell do you put up with this pain, dude? Let alone _that_ pain... I'd be screaming bloody murder if my back looked like yours right now."

Kyle breathed deep.

"It's like I said yesterday, Stan. It feels good to me. Call me super-fucked-up, but it almost feels soothing after a while. The initial pain, that's the worst part. I DID scream bloody murder while he did it to me... And I passed out from it, too. Right now, though... now that the worst part is past, it feels almost... invigorating."

"Ugh, I have to be honest, I... don't think I will ever be able to understand you on this one." Kyle smiled and was about to respond, but loud banging on the door beside him startled him.

"KAHL. Open up," Eric demanded from the other side. Kyle jumped to undo the deadbolt, and was very nearly tramped in Cartman's rush to get in. His arms were overburdened, filled with loose bottles, small boxes, and rolls upon rolls of gauze.

"God damn, Eric, what did you do? Rob all of the nurse's supplies?" Kyle asked, regaining his balance after a dizzy spell.

"Yes," Eric replied bluntly. "Now get the fuck over here and help me out with these!" Obediently, Kyle did so, finding an untainted spot on the counter to line all the many products up on.

In no time, Eric was all over Kyle's body, opening and cleaning every single wound for good measure then dousing them all with peroxides, antiseptics, antibacterials, everything he could do to satisfy himself that Kyle was safe from public bathroom induced infections. Then he worked on stopping the bleeding, commanding a squeamish Stan for his assistance, and being anal about every single gash closing up neatly.

Only once Kyle could stand up again, having nearly fainted from his blood loss, did Cartman make the effort to clean the rest of Kyle's body from all the blood and sex. By the time they were done, no paper towel remained unused. Once again, Eric wrapped Kyle navel-to-chest in bandages, leaving little give for breathing room. An extra bandage was produced for the bite on Kyle's neck. That done, Cartman put together a cocktail of all sorts of painkillers that were bound to knock Kyle flat on his ass in no time. He even fussed and whined over Kyle's refusal of the pills, pouting and guilt-tripping childishly until every last one of them was swallowed. Finally, Cartman made quick but neat work of dressing up his Jew, and smiled when his work was done.

"And that is how you screw a Jew," he said proudly, more to himself than anyone else. Kyle would have blushed, if his remaining blood wasn't laboring away at more vital tasks. Stan found no amusement in the choice of words, however. It was all he could do to strangle back a bitter, angered response... but he had no need to get decked in the face once again.

"So, what now?" he grumbled quietly instead. "Just go to our next classes and act like this never happened?" Cartman shot him a disapproving glare.

"I don't give a rat's ass what you do, so long as I never, EVER catch you touching my propertah again." He turned to Kyle with a smirk. "I know he's a damn good lay, but from now on he will only ever be MY good lay. No one else's." Just who his words were aimed at was unclear, as he slowly stepped up to Kyle. Chest to chest, they met each other's eyes.

"Eric, I've told you—" Kyle started weakly, but was interrupted before he could finish.

"I'm still a virgin, fatass."

Stan's outburst was met with two pairs of eyes, Kyle's disbelieving, Eric's riddled with humor.

"...Come again, Stan?" he urged in a sickly sweet voice. Stan's skin was damn near as red as a tomato.

"I said... I'm still a virgin. So regardless of whatever you believe in that sick, twisted brain of yours, I have never once touched your precious 'Kahl' in that way." He sneered at Cartman, trying to muster up all the animosity he felt into his expression. Cartman attempted to hold back his amusement, but more and more, a smile crept out over his face, and he eventually burst out laughing.

It was the loud, obnoxious, uncontrolled laughter that Stan and Kyle had endured so often throughout their childhood. Some people just never grew up, and Cartman's Peter Pan complex was one of the most notorious cases known to mankind. He stuffed as much of the unused supplies and pill bottles into his pockets as he could fit while he laughed, then slung an arm around Kyle's unstable shoulder good-humoredly. Still in his fit of laughter, he supported the wobbling redhead past the embarrassed Stan and towards the bathroom's door.

"The star jock doesn't get any titty... How great is that," he mused out loud. He tossed Stan a look over his shoulder before leaving the room. "Dude, grow some fucking balls and show that cocktease who's boss. And if she leaves you? Well, what else is new?" His raucous laughter started up again, and Kyle tossed Stan an extremely grateful yet apologetic look before Cartman pulled him along into the hallways. The whole school could hear his amusement as it carried through the halls, while he aimed for their lockers so he could take his drugged-up lover home.

Stan was left standing alone in the butcher shop of a bathroom, pale at the thought of treating Wendy anywhere near as rough as Kyle had been treated. And he cursed, loud, violent, and colorful when his body responded to the idea in the way that it did.

* * *

**End Note**: That's it, everyone. I've got nothing more for this particular story line, so don't expect anything else between, before, or after the stories "For the Benefit" and "Any Other Way".

If you're looking forward to anything from me in the future, I promise nothing. I have endless amounts of ideas... and no motivation to commit to them. I'm an artist, not an author... So if I manage to finish anything, I'll post it, and if not... well, you're not missing out on much.

Ciao, all.

-Xander


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